


A PALE ONE WILL RISE

by IllusionWriter



Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cats, Character Study, Dark Magic, Medieval, Minor Character Death, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Revenge, Undead Skeletons, Witchcraft, sad stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusionWriter/pseuds/IllusionWriter
Summary: Palecat. It is the pseudonym for a brave cat who, when no one else could, climbed the steps of the Demontower and slaughtered the tyrannical Blood Thief herself. But do you know her story?
Kudos: 2





	1. PART I: A PALE ONE WILL FALL

_**PART I** _

_**A PALE ONE WILL FALL** _

The rain poured down, and it poured down hard.

Thunder accompanied, crackling against the nightmarishly darkened sky. A sky that was once filled with the shouts and cries of warriors, allies and enemies alike not long ago. The battle was a long and brutal one. But one side was hit with the hardest losses and, unfortunately, lost all together. Among those lost to the bloodshed, a subtle jerk could be perceived. And not long after, the motions became more apparent. It took a short while, but whatever still drew breath among the dead successfully removed a lost comrade from it's back, forcing itself up with it's two paws.

It's ears were the first to show; white as the snow that refused to fall this cold season. And this color dominated the entirety of the rising warrior's fur. It's hand extended down towards a red, pointed hat. It's green shaw billowed every now and then in the gusts of wind that occasionally came to meet it. The cat was now fully on it's feet, but stumbled nonetheless, nearly collapsing back to the ground before it caught itself and felt the return of a burning pain. The warrior instinctively pressed a paw against it's right side and brought it up to it's face.

_**Blood.** _

_**Blood in the Age of Blood.**_

Reality finally caught up to it, as it was all in the red liquid that had stained it's fur. Blood. Blood everywhere. And not just it's own blood. Not even close to just it's own blood. The warrior cat's comrades were all dead. The battered and beaten cat inhaled a sharp breath, the frigid air sending her already exhausted body into a deep shiver. Turning itself around in a panoramic fashion, it recollected itself, observing the horrid aftermath reluctantly. And then it finally caught note of the colossal tower. It overshadowed her small form in comparison, taunting her. Oh how could they have missed it?

The cat gritted it's chattering teeth as the full recollection of it's mind returned... They were beating them back. For every mile they fought, it seemed the Fire Priests and undead Skelie warriors dwindled more and more in their numbers. And as they approached the towering structure known as the Demontower to finally end this god-forsaken war, it was too late to realize their mistake. The devious plot of feigning their progress had been deployed upon them. Successfully. The reduction of the evil and undead was a purposeful and manufactured effort. And the ploy had worked indeed, leading the white cat and it's fellow soldiers straight into an ambush of astronomical proportions.

Right between them and the dark, ominous tower ahead of them, stood rows and rows of both the undead and magical. Some additional groups came in from behind and from the sides too. They were surrounded. But they couldn't retreat, even if they wanted to. They had to fight. And so they did. And so they _lost_.

After all of the white cat's allies were incapacitated, the undead army did a full sweep of the battlefield and slaughtered anyone who was still on the ground breathing. The white cat struggled desperately to do something, anything, but ultimately, couldn't. It could only just barely lift it's cranium and watch. The cat forced itself to watch. It would make sure that it's failure to lead was met with a beyond terrifying visual reminder. A visual reminder that in the enormous shadow of the Demontower. It wasn't very long before a skeletal soldier eventually made it's approach to the fallen cat's position. It heard the menacing chuckle it gave out. In the corner of the fallen warrior's eyes, it caught glimpse of the blade the offending Skellie soldier raised up into the air, threatening to fall and end the cat's life.

However, seconds passed and nothing came. The air seemed to stiffen, and the atmosphere around it changed drastically. It was a horrid feeling that made it's fur stand on end. A feeling deeper than impending doom. The cat could only wait in dreadful anticipation as the Skellie warrior re-sheathed it's sword and backed off as another figure approached from far behind.

The overwhelming feeling of dread began to multiply inside the white cat's heart, and no matter how hard it tried, the feeling couldn't be shaken away. Before too long, the figure was but a mere few feet away. At first, the white cat could only see the lower half of this being, too weak to lift her head again. But the being kneeled and gripped the cat's chin, roughly pulling it up to have their eyes meet. And it was then that it was met eye to eye with it's arch enemy.

**The Blood Thief.**

The ironically pure white coat of fur on it's face glistened in the illumination of the flashes of lightning that accompanied the night. The fallen cat hated the resemblance it had to this ruthless beast of a cat. It absolutely hated it. The yellow, sharp-edged slits that were his eyes store daggers back into the eyes of his fallen enemy. But the words spoken from his mouth were deceivingly soft. **_"It is over. You are no more, Palecat."_**

The fallen cat now known as Palecat simply closed her eyes. She could do no more. She had failed. But as she bravely awaited her fate at the edge of the Blood Thief's sword, like the Skellie warrior before, it never came. Palecat open her eyes to find the Blood Thief turning away, ordering his army to follow. The necromancer, without looking back, finished by saying, " You shall lay here alone, just like before. But this time, you shall also die here alone."

And with that, the Blood Thief and his posse grew farther and farther away towards the Demontower. The Palecat's consciousness slipped in and out of focus until she eventually succumbed to the darkness... The Palecat came back to the present time as she spotted her signature blade not far away. She approached it, weakly crouching down to retrieve it, hissing silently at the burning sensation of her side wound as she did. But just as she began to sheath her sword-

"Palecat! Palecat!" The shout sent her adrenaline pumping and despite her injuries, spun around fast enough to take out her sword once more and point it defensively in the direction of the sudden voice. However, her intensive actions were soon put to rest, and for the first time in what felt to be ages to her, gave out a legitimate sigh of relief. Palecat lowered her sword and immediately started limping towards the silhouette that, in return, began running in her direction. Her gritted teeth eased as a legitimate smile stretched across her face, uttering one word from her mouth with labored breath.

"Elijah."


	2. PART II: CONVICTION

_**PART II** _

_**CONVICTION** _

The trek back through the dampened woods was challenging to say the least. And with the many trees fallen during the drawn-out battle, many detours had to be made, as it isn't easy getting an injured fellow past large fallen debris. But eventually, with the Palecat's arm around his shoulders, this 'Elijah', made it back to his secure home cottage. Opening the wooden door to his abode, he set Palecat down in the closest chair in the dining room. As she adjusted her back against the back of the chair, her head lazily tilted upwards and finally got a clearer look at her old friend. He was a dark-green feathered bird with a yellow beak. He sported a brown cloak for warmth. And his eyes, a piercing aqua blue, were gazing down at her with an agonizing worry.

While Elijah ran back further into another room for something, the Palecat couldn't take her thoughts off of what transpired outside just a few hours ago. It was turning surreal again. But a quick jolt of pain from her side kept her reality in check.

Elijah took the long strip of cloth and carefully wrapped it around the bleeding wound that resided on her waist area. Sealing it in place with a well-tightened knot, he stepped back and

"The war...is lost, it seems..." Elijah noted, knowing he was stating the obvious. But in truth, he simply couldn't find the words. He had nothing else to say. "Palecat..this isn't your fau-"

"Of COURSE it's my fault, Elijah!" Palecat sharply cut in, rising in her chair; but her eyes twitched, abruptly lowering herself back down due to her injury pain. "I-I was responsible for leading them...I was the one who promised _THEM_ victory! And I led them straight into a trap I should have _SEEN_ coming!"

She weakly slammed her fist against the wooden table, lowering her head. "The Blood Thief. That damned Blood Thief...he ordered his soldiers to kill them all while they were down! Down! Right in front of me. And I deserved it." Tears began forming in the white cat's eyes. How much she hated tears, she couldn't even describe to herself. She was a gruff and no-nonsense type of feline. When something needed doing, she tried everything in her power to be there to do it. But this was a failed moment on that behalf. All she did was cause more preventable death. And now the tears were finally coming up to speed with that.

Palecat's fists slammed against the table once more, nearly toppling the cup of water next to her.

"Evelyn..."

"Don't CALL ME THAT!"

Elijah backed up, blinking in shock.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Elijah. I...didn't mean to yell."

Elijah, once wide-eyed, sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "Palecat, you're under a lot of stress. You've suffered a lot. And we're not safe here. Not for long, at least. And we need to get you to a real doctor; your wound looks pretty deep. You were lucky enough to have been knocked out instead of skewered right through. We have to leave soon."

Elijah was cautious getting Palecat back on her feet, her left arm around his shoulder once more as he supported her to his room. Softly, he laid her upon his bed, earning a restful sigh from her as he backed up to in between the door frame. "I have a few things I can scrounge up from my inventory to help with the bleeding. We must make haste. There's no telling or time to guess what that retched tyrant and his army will plan for their next move. Please, bear with me." Just as the bird stepped out of the room to gather the aid, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something shine against a nearby flash of lightning that came from the now-receding thunderstorm.

It was her blade, still tightly gripped in her right paw. And the grip was only getting tighter. Worry of what might come next was no longer dormant in Elijah's mind. Nevertheless, he continued on with the task at hand.

Palecat held her breath, tuning in to the feint noises coming from the main part of the home. She noted that Elijah was fully focused on the gathering of medical supplies and alternatives to said medical supplies. _'This is the only chance I'll get,'_ she thought as she struggled into a sitting position. Using her sword as a makeshift cane, she wobbled to the single, circular window to her left and raised her sword's edge, pushing it's sharp edge against the latch that locked it in place. Grateful for the small wooden desk just below it, she took as little time as she could climbing onto it, opening the window, and climbing through. "Sorry, Elijah." Palecat said in nearly a whisper as she readied to jump. But she failed to register the coming footsteps that re-approached the room. The door to the bedroom opened, revealing Elijah and his arms full with miscellaneous supplies.

"Alright, Palecat. I think-"

What Elijah saw unfolding in front of him froze him in place. A look of sorrow and irresolution was cast upon him as Palecat turned away and lowered herself outside. The distance from the window to the ground wasn't high enough to elicit worry, but the impact of her feet against the dirt did flare up the pain of her freshly acquired injuries. Only after a few steps away from the cottage and her friend's voice rang out to her.

"Are you out of your damned mind? You aren't actually going to take on the Blood Thief yourself, now are you? That's absolutely manic!"

Exhaling a long, quiet and deep breath, Palecat spun around, looking up at her ally and friend. She could only manage a faint smile. "I have to do this. I have to." She spoke this with conviction. There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Let me come with you." Elijah replied pleadingly.

However, Elijah's words set off an automatic response out of the Palecat's mouth.

"No."

Elijah's face visibly deflated.

"This is my fight now and my fight alone. No one else, Elijah. No one else needs to-."

"No one else but you, right?" Elijah dispiritedly interjected.

Palecat took a stiff step towards the window. "I'm coming back from this...and when I do, I want a full-coursed meal. And of my own choosing. Courtesy of my favorite cook." Palecat replied, balling her sword-less hand into a fist and pressing it against her chest. Hesitant at first, Elijah smiled, well aware that there was no dissuading her.

In the cat's unnaturally yellow eyes was an undying fire. She was out for the Blood Thief's life so that she _herself_ could end it. It was her destiny too. At least, that's what she believed. But no one had ever out-bested her swordsmanship, her insight, and her skills as a tactician...not until recently. She knew she was far from immortal. She was no fool. First as a lone warrior, she fought and assisted whenever she could, preferring to work from the shadows. And naturally, word caught up with her, and interests were quickly taken upon her. From both sides. One wanting her support, and the other wanting her death.

And in short time, she eventually accepted the role of maintaining and leading the land's army against the Blood Thief's forces. Although she refused to take any official title, she on multiple occasions, led successful skirmishes and battles against the many bandits, sorcerers, and skellie knights alike that the Tyrant of Blood sent their way. There was even an occasion where the Blood Thief himself met sword to sword with the Palecat. And awhile after the small fight rang out, the Blood Thief left wordlessly with a haunting smirk, neither one with so much as a scratch. Her army cheered for her, but she knew the truth. He was merely testing her. But she smiled along with them nonetheless.

If anything, the one solid reason why she had agreed in the first place was due to one simple fact: killing the Blood Thief would be a much less daunting task. And here she was, battered and bruised, and without an army. But by the heavens, she was going to take them on again.

Most would think the Palecat absolutely nuts. It's what Elijah had thought for the moment. But he realized that very few knew her like he did. Because the Palecat was his childhood friend. A wide smile stretched across Elijah's beak. He raised a clenched fist and stopped it against his chest, returning her salute.

"Deal."

A feeling of calm and release filled Palecat's body. A low rumble of thunder set off one of her ears to twitch in the direction of the thunderclouds that drew further and further away.

In the direction of the Demontower.


	3. PART III: THE PAST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good thing must come to an end. So let's start at the beginning.

_**PART III** _

_**THE PAST** _

_14 Years before._

The village of Holloway was a rather peaceful and relatively untroubled settlement located just off the coast of Tulthania, the country it resided in. It was also a place that found visitors coming in on a fairly average basis. This being due greatly to it's location next to the sea and it's harbors. Many traders and seaman would stop by the merchant shops and stock up on the provided supplies that they needed to help endure through their journeys through the waves. Business was blooming and profiting and had been for the many years since the town first stood tall. Among many others, one family was lucky enough to be a part of this position of opportunity.

"Father? Wasn't your dad a sailor too?" a young, feminine voice asked from within the confines of a particular shop. An older gent gave out a hardy laugh and set down one of his newly crafted arrows, a big smile forming on the man's face.

"Yes! More than just a sailor laddie. He was a First Mate. I believe I've told you before when you were younger." Her father's face darkened just a bit. "However, he got lost at sea along with his fellow crew, trying to cross over to Mecchan...to try and join the forces there that needed help fighting a civil war that threatened the country's freedom."

The young, white furred cat's face darkened along with her father's. "Well...that got dark real fast."

The father's mood shifted back in a heartbeat. "Mecchan was my father's birth country. He joined the Calvary of Sunden Knights when he was younger and of age to fight in the name of his country there. I understood why he decided to go back...it just took me years to _truly_ understand." A small pause ensued before he knelt down to his daughters height. "Listen Evelyn. My father told me something before he departed. He said to me, "If you ever get the chance to be a hero, be the hero. 'Cause someone might end up being that to you."

The young cat, Evelyn, pondered the words deeply, every letter already instilled inside of her bright little heart. Kinda.

"Woow. I'll remember that...or maybe I should just jot it down on some parchment."

Her father let out another hardy chuckle. "Yes, you are a forgetful laddie."

A sudden youthful voice shouted out in the near distance. "Hey! Hey, Evelyn!" Evelyn turned, looking out of the merchant shop and her eyes widened as she found her two friends running for her.

"Looks like you're needed elsewhere," Evelyn's father arose to his full height, opening the door for her. "Go ahead. We can resume arrow making lessons for later. Just watch yourselves and don't wander out beyond the forest." Evelyn gave her dad a nod and went out to greet them. Her father's smile failed to fade as he watched her join her companions and disappear behind another home. He turned and resumed his efforts on his arrow crafting.

The small thumps of footsteps against the fall laves were made as Evelyn was guided by her two friends to the edge of the town. Looking up, the sun's rays shined through the crevices and gaps of the leaves that had yet to fall, the tall trees of the forest that gave home to them bearing down on her like the skinny giants that they were. Little Evelyn had been to the edge of the forest many times before like she was now, but had never ventured more than a few feet into it. Her father had warned her sternly, out of care that she avoided any unwarranted trouble. Crime was far from rampant in her town, but the forest was a portal that led into another world on the other side. A world her father wanted to keep her away from until she was old enough.

"Hey, ever been past that cut down tree over there?"

But peer pressure got the best of her.

Evelyn eyed out the tree stump that her friend gestured a finger towards. She quickly deducted that it was sliced down by the force of a heavy, sharp object, likely an axe due to the way the remainder of the tree looked. It was cut through relatively cleanly. "Um, yeah, I see it." Evelyn replied. "Looks like someone chopped it down for some wood. Maybe to burn."

"Yeah," her other friend, Elijah, added in. "I did hear a loud thump at night. Probably someone in desperate need of some firewood?" But their friend smirked and narrowed her eyes at Evelyn and Elijah, letting out a gradually louderlaugh, mocking the crazed bellowing of a maddened tyrant.

"Ha,ha,ha! _OR_ Maybe it was done through by a sword-wielding demon!"

On the inside Evelyn's heart jumped a little, but on the inside, she was unamused. "Come on, Martha. Let's be a wee bit more realistic here." But Martha didn't let her dramatic charade down. "How so?"

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose, briefly shutting her eyelids closed. "Don't ya think that whatever..."monster" that did this would want to do more? Like, maybe attack the village? But no, the ferocious demon wants to strike fear into the hearts of it's soon to be prey by chopping wood! _FEAR ME MORTALS!_ Or I'll cut down and take your only supply of starting fires and building things!" Evelyn exaggerated back, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Martha's eyes narrowed as Elijah covered his beak with his hands, chuckling next to her. "Way to kill the mood, Evelyn." Martha muttered, turning back towards the stump. Evelyn followed Martha's gaze, asking the question she was too long awaiting the answer for. "So...what are we really doing up here? I mean, you didn't drag us up here just to tell us a raggedy story about a monster cutting down a tree, right?"

Martha spun around at Evelyn, eyeing her with a challenging look.

"No. We're going deeper into the forest."

* * *

Evelyn's father was hard at work, laboring extra hard to produce as thrice as many arrows he was accustomed to. It wasn't just the hunting season for wild turkeys and coyote that was on his mind, but the cautioning warnings he received from word of mouth. Reports of a grisly and unforgiving warmonger terrorizing the lands and countrysides. And he had no doubts that the rumors were true. _'A powerful necromancer with it's ranks accumulating immensely as the days ticked by,'_ he heard someone say. He and a few fellow colleagues even felled one on the way back into their home village a year prior after some out-of-town business had been handled.

They built a sturdier gate to help accommodate this potential issue, but one had never found it's way to their village, even after all of these years of a potential and dangerous possibility. They had all gotten off lucky. Up until now.

A loud banging was heard up against the wooden gate that separated the village from the outside world. An alert fellow village goer in his late thirties jogged past the shop that Evelyn's father stood in. "Don't worry Arundel, I got it." As this man went to check, another man followed suit; he was a little older, and perhaps more cautious and prepared, as his hand gripped the hilt of the dagger strapped to one of his thighs.

A few other locals wandered out of their homes, agog to who was to come through. Now in front of the gate, the man gripped the small gap in between the two big doors held together by a lock. Opening it slightly, the side the man pulled towards himself bolted in place, halted by the lock and the chain looped through it. It left a gap wide enough for him to gaze through. And so he did, poking his eye through for a clearer look. "Morning trave-"

What the man saw behind the gates would be forever lost in the moment to everyone else, as his head jerked back, a quickly snuffed out gasp escaping his lips as he slumped to the ground. The poor man had been stabbed right through one of his eyes.

"No..." Arundel whispered as a quiet shock rung out his heart. Images of his daughter Evelyn and his wife flashed rampantly through his heart and mind as he watched the knife-armed man stumble away from the entrance gates. The man didn't make it very far, however. An arrow had hissed right through the gap in the gate, striking the fleeing man straight in the back. A sharp sword reached through from the other side and began striking down against the chains that held foundation for keeping the gates securely together. To Arundel, that chain was the thread that kept the town together. And it wouldn't take many strikes for it to break apart.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Arundel began to shout over and over again, the dreaded fear of losing all he ever cared about flickering maddeningly within his terror-stricken mind. He made a mad dash inside, running up to the wall closest to him and grabbing a mounted sword off of it's wall support. His next action consisted of equipping himself of a bow and quiver of arrows, gathered together and strapped it around his shoulder. His legs wobbly with worry, he boldly stepped back outside. He had to look for his wife and kid. He had to look for his wife and little Evelyn.

The entrance gates were forced open just as he rounded behind his store. He had no time to knock on every door. He did here and there, but most of Arundel's warnings came from his shouts. "Everyone! We're under attack! We're being attacked!"

The assailants were finally revealed; over two dozen armor-donning undead skeletons armed with swords and bows marched through the gates, the large group led by who was presumably their leader. A dark-green, feathered bird with a pointed red hat in the shape of a cone rested on it's head. A green hooded robe that closely matched the color of it's feathers concealed the remainder of it's form. A ruby-encrusted cane was held in it's right hand. And out of it's beak were the words that were to ultimately seal the fate of their victims.

"Kill them all. And leave no survivors." the leader ordered in a hauntingly cool voice. The bird's eyes then darkened into pitch black voids of nothingness. And in place of them, flames brewed. It muttered words no one but itself would hear and with the raising of it's arms, it spawned three balls of fire the sizes of an average head and lobbed them at the closest structure in sight; some poor elder's dwelling. It caught ablaze rather quickly, with the speed only perceived in the effects of magic. Residents screamed as their scrambling and panicked footsteps became the perfect soundtrack to the invading menace's ears.

Arrows whizzed by, striking those unlucky enough to be in their path. The flames that caught the inflicted houses began to spread, adding to the list of the rising chaos. Despite all of which transpired around him, Arundel was focused entirely on one goal: getting his wife and daughter out of the village safely. He barged through the door to his home and shut it, locking it down just as his wife had come out of the kitchen. "You scared the holy hell outta me! Where's Evelyn!?" his wife asked hastily as an unseen force pushed and barged against the wooden door that held the last barrier of defense they had left.

"Honey...there isn't any time. I love you."

Brandishing his sword, he wielded it in the defensive position, awaiting whatever inevitable horrors that were to soon make themselves known. As the door's hinges buckled and the door swung open, Arundel charged forward. His sword built momentum, slashing from left to right. The affronted attack removed the skull of an unarmored and unsuspecting Skellie grunt. It fell to the ground in a heap of scattered bones. A second came through, this one armored. But it was felled all the same. Tragically, the third came in the form of a fireball, colliding with Arundel's chest and sending him backwards and on his back, unconscious right beside his wife. And she screamed at the top of her lungs, attempting to obtain the bronze-hilted blade as three more Skellie knights invaded their home. Another one, their leader the fire priest, walked in casually behind them.

A flame now exhausted from it's hand as it approached the defeated couple. The Skellie knights restrained her, wrenching the bronze blade from her hand.

"Now, now," the Fire priest cautioned, wagging a finger. "Let's not make this any harder than it ne-"

Arundel's wife lurched forward in the skeleton's grasps, letting lose a ball of spit that struck the fire-caster directly in the eye. It flinched as his face grew hot in with anger.

"HOW _DARE_ YOU!" the fire priest roared as he brung back an arm and backhanded her. She laughed in a final act of defiance as she recovered from the brief stun.

"Bring them outside." the fire priest ordered, unsheathing a long, concealed blade out of it's cane. It was then he remembered the sword his men took away from the woman. He re-sheathed his cane and pointed towards it. "And bring me that blade also. I'll deal with these two personally." the dreadful fire-caster ordered with a beaming smirk.

* * *

"Maaarthaaa. Seriously, Martha, we shouldn't be out here. We need to go back." Evelyn advised, staying close behind her friend as she continued onward. "I already promised my parents I would never go out this far."

"She's right. This is kinda dangerous." Elijah agreed, trekking up to Martha's side to further emphasize. "I mean, what's the end goal here?"

Martha stopped in her tracks and stood silent.

"Martha?"

Martha turned around and store them both straight in the eyes. "Look, if you two want to head back, then head back. But I'm staying." She was clenching her hands into fists.

Elijah was the first to step forward. "Hey...what's the matter?" Look I know this is all about something else...so can you please tell us? We're your friends. We'd always have your back, remember?"

Martha's face softened after hearing the reassurance. She shut her eyes tightly for a short moment before opening them again. "I...got into a fight with my father last night. About swearing. It came out by accident. But he just kept exaggerating about how bad of a child I was and...he's been in a bad place since mum died and I think we just needed our space. This was the only way I know of giving him that."

Intimidate sympathy radiated off of her two friend's faces.

"Oh..." Evelyn simply replied. "Sorry Martha...I thought this was just another dare you were putting us on." She earned a smile from her, Martha kicking a nearby branch in front of her.

"'Tis alright. Really. Was just an argument. We'll both get over it soon."

"Yeah-"

Elijah's words were stopped in their tracks as he perked up his attention to a faint sound. "Hey, did you both just hear that?"

Martha stepped forward and nudged him with a balled-up fist. "Stop playin'. The jokes are over, remember?"

"No! I'm serious. Just stay still and listen..."

The three put focus on their hearing, a strange, eerily close chorus of sounds suspiciously emitting from the direction of their village. It only took a measly few seconds to register what it was.

They were screams.

"Oh my god," Martha uttered, frozen in place with her friends and shaking her head in denial. "That's from home! Those are screams! What the he-" Martha stopped speaking and along with her crew, catching the sound of large branches breaking and the crunching of leaves. Both coming from the direction of their village and getting louder.

"Hide. We need to hide now!" Evelyn hissed in a whisper, taking quick steps towards a line of fairly large bushes, Martha and Elijah not far behind. They practically dived for the cover nature had given them, straightening themselves and peering through the plants and leaves. Wasn't long before two figures became apparent and their forms more clear.

All three of the terrified youngster's eyes widened as a live skeleton and a strange cloaked bird came into view.

"It came from here...somewhere around this way..." they heard the strange bird say as they eventually came closer. The cloaked bird pulled out a red book, opening it's pages and closing it's eyes...before shooting his blank, pitch-black eyes in their direction.

"I know you're there. I can sense your life-force..."

No reply, and no movement.

The bird sighed, muttering something under it's breath and shooting one arm into the air. A fireball manifested not far above it. "Come out! Right now, or the whole forest goes up in flames! You know what option I'd prefer more!"

The fireball it conjured grew two times it's original size, but even to this, it still lacked an answer back. Fed up with, the fire-caster was just about to fulfill it's threatening promise before a singular voice called out.

"Don't! Okay? We're-we're coming out!"

Smirking, the fire bird lowered it's arm and the ball of flame dissipated. It witnessed three children emerge from a line of bushes from it's right.

"What did you do?" Martha questioned right off the second. Tears were still present in her eyes. But to this, the fire bird mockingly gawked.

"What do you mean?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO!?" Martha said louder, launching herself at the fire bird. Luckily, her two friends stepped in, stopping her.

Coldly, the fire-caster bird replied with words that didn't coincide with what she wanted to hear. "Come over here. Now. Or I'll kill you all on the spot."

The frightened kids were all rattling like a rattlesnake's tail.

"W-we have n-no choice, Martha..." Evelyn made sure to clarify with her friend's conscious. And she was the first to step forward before her friends quickly followed suit. Every step seemed heavier and more labored as they got within grabbing distance to their oppressors.

"Men, secure them." the fire bird commanded, and the three Skellie knights that accompanied it sprung forward and roughly subdued the three with their arms behind their backs. They were forced in front of the bird, whose smile was uncomfortably wide. "We killed them all. Every. Single. One. And _you're_ next."

What happened next was all a blur in Evelyn's mind. The first thing: there was a rage that her youthful, premature mind had never felt before. And it drove her to thrust her head back, up into the chin of the undead skellie soldier that had restrained her. The second thing was Evelyn managing to bone-rush straight into the surprised fire bird, knocking the fire caster off it's feet. She ended up on it's chest and immediately landed a solid scratch against it's face before it caught her throat in it's hands.

The fire bird had gave out a yelp as it's right eye closed shut. Regaining control of the situation, the fire bird reversed their positions and slammed Evelyn against the cold, leafy ground, tightening it's choking grip.

"Evelyn!" both Elijah and Martha screamed in unison as they struggled madly trying to aid their friend.

"You're going to pay dearly for that you little BRAT!" it shrieked as it quickly waved for his third skeletal soldier. "Give me your sword." The soldier complied, rushing up and handing it over. It wasn't until the adrenaline rush that surged through Evelyn's body subsided that she realized the damage she had done to the evil bird. It's right eye had been caught in the path of her scratching of him, leaving it blind and useless. Pure rage was clearly present in it's one good eye as it leveled the sword in front of Evelyn's face.

And she coward as her friend's cries for mercy filled in the background.

"Please, let us go! Don't do this!"

"Stop it! Leave her alone! Leave her alone!"

The fire bird brought the edge of the sword up to it's beak, ignoring it's victim's cries for help as he uttered a mystical phrase under it's breath. Suddenly, a flame ignited from it's mouth in a small stream of fire that washed against the top of the sword's blade. The heat that radiated made Evelyn flinch, but was ultimately unharmed. Stopping the fire spell and cutting off the streaming flame, what was left was the scolding hot edge of the sword, which now gave out a bright orange hue. It was then that Evelyn knew exactly what this cruel spell caster was planning to do. And this realization only made her friend's more frantic.

The fire bird waved the burning edge dangerously close to Evelyn's terrified face. "I'll brand you as the poor child of a once prosperous, now pillaged and pathetic village. Then you'll die just like it did." the bird had snapped at some point after the assault on him and showed no signs of calming down.

As Evelyn struggled, the spell caster's grip on her neck tightened even more, her screams reduced to hectic gasps for oxygen. Then it lowered the top of the sword's sharp edge to her forehead and it finally made contact. Even past the restriction of her throat, Evelyn's screams of pain and anguish managed to seep through. As the cruel fire-caster withdrew the sword, a fresh burn mark going down vertically was left behind. And the assaulter wasted no time finishing the job. The fire-caster grinned wider than ever as it set the sword's edge down a second time, this time horizontally, leaving behind his finishing piece.

The mark of a cross.

Evelyn saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt nothing but pain in the moment. Her friends were now hysteric, vainly attempting to break free of their captors to do something. Anything, This was seemingly it.

' _This is it, right?'_ Evelyn thought to herself in the blankness of her mind.

But the blankness grew a little clearer. Even through the growing unconsciousness of her mind, she still managed to register the moment her friend got loose. Martha, filled to the brim with sobs and streaming tears, stomped hard on one of her captor's bony feet and dashed forward with a maddened scream, grabbing under her shirt for something. She whipped out a sharp object, revealing it to be a small dagger she had concealed, strapped to her leather belt.

By the time the fire bird let Evelyn go, the first knife strike had already connected, plunging into the malicious bird's chest. Then a second. Then a third time. Then a fourth. The skellie soldier that Martha escaped from set after her, only to have an arrow greet it, straight into it's skull.

The skellie that held Elijah had little time to react as it fell all the same, an arrow through the back of it's skull sending it lifelessly to the ground, Freeing Elijah in the progress. It's bones disconnected and was no longer held by whatever dark magic kept them joined.

Without hesitation, Martha and Elijah joined Evelyn's side and lifted her head, supporting her in a sitting position. Their friend was in a state of shock and the tears drawn from the recent searing of the mark now branded upon her forehead continued to flow in the mixes of heaves she was uncontrollably letting out.

"Is she okay?" an unknown person's voice called out not far from where they were. As the figure came out from hiding, Martha swiftly shifted and still clenching the dagger, pointed the sharp edge in the now-present form that exposed itself. It was a much older male, gray-furred cat, safely over thirty years of age, and with an eye-patch obscuring his left eye. "Are you lads al-?"

"Don't come any closer!" Martha interrupted in a shout, jabbing the dagger in his direction. Elijah took her wrist in response, gently lowering her dagger-equipped arm.

"Martha, that's the man who saved us!" Elijah looked up at the gray cat as he re-strapped the bow around his shoulder. "Thank you. We almost-!"

Elijah's words of gratitude were halted immediately from the call that came from their rescuer's mouth.

"Missy!" the eye-patched cat called out. At this exact same time, a weight pushed against Elijah and Martha's sides as footsteps began away from them. It was Evelyn and she was running back towards the town.

"Evelyn, no!"

Their friend had clearly heard their calls, but made no attempts at stopping. And so they were after her...

* * *

The smell of burning wood and blood was clearly present in the air. But it failed to halt Evelyn's panicked run towards her home. As she exited the forest, she found a grizzly sight. Just at the back of the village where she now stood, were bodies. Villagers who were seeking to flee into the forest, but were unable to make it in time. Some were face down, but the others...their faces were filled with many things: grief, confusion, anguish, and even abandonment.

Evelyn had never seen a lifeless body before. No longer shackled by the chilling sight, she broke free of the terror her eyes laid upon and knew there was much more to come. But wordlessly, she stepped by. The wooden structures that were once homes were still burning. But Evelyn was seeking out only one and that was of her own. Located in the middle of their fairly small community, it didn't take long to reach it. It as aflame like the rest, making it a serious hassle just to approach. But approach she did regardless. Evelyn gripped the door handle and swung it open. She could hear her friends in the distance calling out to her, but Evelyn's mind was in too much of a spiral to care.

"Father! Mother! Please, where are you! Where are you!" she screamed out in a heartbreaking wail. There were no replies within the growing inferno. The heat was growing, washing against her fur like an overheating sun. In the desperation for an answer, she even pondered going inside. But a pair of arms shot around her frame, pulling her away from the overwhelming fire that now fully engulfed her home.

Only seconds after pulling the flailing Evelyn away did her house collapse, leaving behind nothing but burnt wood and fire. She shook out of the grasp of who was revealed to be the eye patch cat and began running to the village front. Elijah and Martha jogged past the older cat, trying to catch up to their distraught friend.

"Dad...your mum...their gone, aren't they?" Marsha asked Elijah. She was already sure that there was no hope.

"We don't know that yet...not until we find them." Elijah answered. He was just as doubtful as Martha. He was just a kid, but he was far from naive. Every single villager outside from themselves were more than likely dead.

Evelyn now stood weakly at the front of the village, where' it's entrance gates resided, chain broken and left to hang uselessly as the gate doors creaked in response to the wind. There were the deceased scattered here and there, but not as numerously as it had been further in where they had came back from. She recognized most as friend's of her parents, relatives that visited from time to time, and of simply those whose kind hearts greeted her every day.

But the two that she noticed over all were her parents. Right clear in the center of this senseless massacre lay her father Arundel and her own mother.

Evelyn let loose a wailing cry that pierced through the bright, sunny sky of the morning and could have easily spearheaded through the heavens. She practically laid on top of them, shaking their lifeless bodies for naught, and trying vainly to wake them from a sleep that would forever keep them.

"Kiddo..."

A soft, but clearly audible voice called from behind her. The gray, eye-patched cat approached from behind. "We have to go. It still isn't safe, they could be back."

Evelyn continued to sob onto her parent's. She was indifferent to the adult's words. Once more he tried, sympathetically gripping Evelyn's shoulder. But the man was met with a sharp withdrawal of her form, crying eyes glaring back at his own.

"No! No...not until their buried...not until their properly..."

Elijah and Martha approached, lost with tears of their own and without much on what to do next or even what to even think. But the man knelt beside Evelyn again, sympathetic and kind eyes combating against the anguish residing in Evelyn's.

" Listen to me, young'un. This is a very despairing moment of your life. Trust me, I've been through enough in my lifetime. I've lost my parents through war. And I've only just recently come to terms with the way the world works. So do me this favor: come with me, all of you. We go somewhere safe and get some help laying your families to rest. For everyone here. But you gotta get up." the man finished. A deep, solid wall of fortitude originated in his eyes, begging for the little cat to climb over it.

Evelyn heard every word the older cat said. She even agreed. But despite this, she still couldn't move. Like she was frozen in time, but she could hear everything happening around her all the same. In this moment of painful, internal solitude, she had, in the corner of her eye, realized something sticking out of the ground next to her parents that had finally pushed her to move. Her vision glided towards a bronze blade that was skewered into the dirt. Stumbling as she did, she got up, finding the strength to stand again.

"The older cat smiled in response. "There ya go, lassie."

Evelyn wordlessly stepped up to the sword and slowly gripped it's handle, pulling it out of the ground with little resistance. As she studied the blade, she noticed the dry blood that still stained it's steel surface. This was her father's sword. Passed down from his own father. But why was it in the ground like this? Evelyn's eyes closed shut as more trails of a salty liquid slid down her face. Because her father didn't put it in the ground.

The sour realization finally came to her. Her father and mother were murdered with her father's own sword. And in the ground it was, as a reminder of that.

"Evelyn!"

Martha's voice rang from in front of her, causing her to look up. There were her two friends, just as lost for proper words as she was. The only difference between them was that they weren't holding the sword their own family were slaughtered with. Evelyn was.

Martha leaped forward and wrapped Evelyn in a sorrowful hug, nearly causing them both to fall. She looked up at her sword-wielding friend. "We need to go."

Evelyn store at her herself in the reflection of the sword's shiny surface. Her eyes held a guilt that bore down relentlessly and unfiltered back at her.

' _What if I had stayed? What...what if I had just...'_

Evelyn's thoughts ceased. Her hand tightening around the hilt of her father's blade, she nodded at the words of her friend, and even though the words had slipped past her, she followed the older cat and her companions back through the forest, too afraid to look back.

Even for just a second.


	4. PART IV: IDEE' FIXE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 winters pass...

**_PART IV_ **

**_IDEE' FIXE_ **

_Two winters passed._

West of the village right by the sea was where Evelyn's parents and her fellow neighbors were long laid to rest. And here she was, same old bronze sword in hand.

In a wide, grassy field, metal bounced off metal. Long, controlled breaths escaped her mouth, all the while attempting to ward off or at the very least ease the sore feeling growing fast in her wrists and in her arms. Evelyn had thought that she'd get used to parrying on a basic level during the first day of training, but her inexperienced mind was fooled.

"Not bad, Evelyn." her sparring partner said to her, a cheeky grin sprouting on his face. "But you have quite the ways to go before we move on. Best to learn from trial and error."

Through the tired and labored breaths, Evelyn mirrored his smile. "I'm not stopping until I get this right."

From a fair distance, Martha and Elijah stood in the distance, watching on with drained expressions. "How long has it been? An hour? We haven't eaten breakfast yet and she wants to start training again?" Martha complained.

"You know how badly she wants to master swordsmanship. Besides, you know we've done this before and no one dragged us out here. Could've stayed behind, ya know?"

Martha was silent for a moment. "Alright fine. I came out here to watch because I want to learn too. I want to know I can properly defend myself...and others...ya know, instead of that reckless move back in the forest." she half-joked, still a little sensitive on the topic of what transpired back then. "Don't want to be the black sheep on this one."

"Hey, you saved us. Good start enough. Maybe you and Evelyn would make good sparing partners again? I mean, the first time around was a bit... _rough_. But it'll be nothing compared to what the future could bring to us." Elijah punctuated his point with a light punch to her shoulder.

Letting a brief chuckle escape, she returned her gaze towards Evelyn and their long-ago savior as they sword-danced. "Heh, I don't want her to chop my head off."

"Good friends don't chop each others heads off."

The final pang of the evening rang out in a metallic echo through the clearing. Evelyn lowered her sword and caught her breath as the eye patched cat re-sheathed his own. "That is enough. For today at least." he said, walking past Evelyn who feigned her boost of energy.

"No, it's quite alright! I go another ten-"

"Training's over, missy. There's no need to overwork things. You must find balance within yourself and your ability. Only then can you easily grow faster from there. Things like this take proper patience...even after a year's worth of doing it. I've said this many times before."

"With this, Evelyn sighed in defeat. "Well, okay. So Mr. Eyepatch..."

"You know 'ta call me _Isembard_ , missy. No need 'ta make my former injury a trademark."

Evelyn lowered her gaze in slight embarrassment, quickly straightening herself once more. "Um, sorry...so, Mr. Isembard. Who taught you your swordsmanship? Or really how to fight in general? Took me long enough to ask..."

Isembard chuckled, relishing in unexpectedly conjured up memories of days long passed by. "My father taught me, of course. And my mother some as well; but both more on the side of swordsmanship. I mostly taught myself the bow and quiver. They were both the stepping stones that led me down a path of relative competence. To be truthful, twasn't easy for me at first, but I adapted. Maybe your friends would like to build more skills for themselves also."

"Actually, Martha seemed pretty interested at just that. Wants to learn bow more than sword, though." Evelyn remarked, staring at the hilt of her blade.

Isembard raised his chin in acknowledgment. "Hmm..I'll see to give her that option."

* * *

Reports of the undead fully dressed in armor, rising up and attacking the living wasn't an unnatural occurrence these present times around. And in the two trying years that passed since the day Evelyn and her friends had lost everything dear to them, the reports only began to multiply tenfold. The cat with the cross burned into her forehead...wanted desperately to rush into one of the wretched things themselves and run them through personally. Even one would satisfy her.

No.

She was lying to herself. One would _never_ be enough.

 _All_ of them _**dead**_.

That was her destiny. Her self-proclaimed destiny. But she said nothing of this to anyone but herself. The day felt like a month, but eventually, the moon arose in accordance and night arrived.

"Hey, Eve? You with us?"

Evelyn brought her eyes from the fork she had mercilessly penetrated repeatedly into her bread.

"Y-yes. Sorry. Mind just went blank. Suppose I'm still tired from earlier."

"So how long you think before the Skellie knights and undead prick manifestation reaches it's numbers in our area?" Elijah had directed the question at Isembard.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I've thought about the possibility many times. Too many times 'ta tally, I'm sure. But we've been lucky so far. They don't seem to congregate much by the shorelines..." Isembard twirled the spoon gripped in his paws to his soup. "This is exactly why training you three has been a necessity."

Isembard then turned towards Martha with a welcoming, almost openly challenging smile. "Evelyn told me that ya might be interested in some archery. Am I wrong about that, now?"

Martha nearly chocked on the steamed carrots she was consuming, caught off guard by the assumption. Giving Evelyn a quick, narrow-eyed glance, she returned a nervous reply. "Oh yeah! I did...say that, didn't I? Well, the truth is...I'm terrified of the idea of having to fight. But it's not like we have much of a choice if we want to stay breathing, right?" Martha subconsciously tapped a finger against the small dagger strapped around her leg.

"It would definitely be best," Elijah added. "I've watched some commoners shoot arrows out of town a good amount of times, but that' as close as I've ever gotten."

"Then it's settled!" Isembard exclaimed as he picked up his cup of ale. "Startin' tomorrow morin', I can run ya all down on the basics and how to's. But first, let's talk on less serious matters."

Evelyn leaned forward in her seat. "What else is there to talk about? Day after day this foul, evil movement grows and festers, wasting time on small talk and neglecting planning for another morning is an easy way of spelling death for us all. We should start now, because...every day we..." Evelyn went silent, drawing her eyes back down at the wooden table.

"I'm sorry. Uncalled for."

"No, you're right." Isembard took a quick sip of ale before getting up. "But if things are rushed, you'll all tire more, which leads to less effectiveness in training, which leads to less effectiveness in battle. That's exactly what we don't want. You've shown _great_ progress in combat and in just short of a year, Evelyn." Isembard's paws were pressed boldly against the table's edge as he spoke. His eyes shot straight through hers, and Evelyn could feel he was no longer speaking about her remark.

"I was just like this when I was much younger. _This_ was how it started. I was just about the same as you all were those two winters passed. When I was informed that my father had been killed, I didn't know what to think. How to process it. And as I got older...I began to understand what had happened much clearer. How he died, who killed him, who the regime was that the one who took his life hailed from...and finding vengeance was all that was fueling my naive, fresh little mind.

Evelyn replied through gritted teeth. "It's not the same-"

"But then, one night, I realized how much time I'd spent trying to avenge my father's demise that I found that it hurt me more than any damage I could do to those responsible. And that there were better ways to the same goal. The night I realized all of this, that was just four nights before. Before I came across the three of you."

Evelyn intended to add something, but her jaw slacked. She let him continue.

"Listen to me. All of you. There's nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with seeking justice towards those who do you wrong. But please, do not let it destroy you in the process. Let it heal you. Let it truly heal you. Because there's a fine difference in serving justice and seeking vengeance. Justice is for the wronged. Vengeance is for yourself." Isembard finished, his palms now unclenched and relaxed.

Evelyn was left unforthcoming. A silence that was shared around the table. Evelyn finally spoke up.

"I just want to be stronger. Stronger for all of you." Evelyn eyed her two friends intently. "I just want all of this to end."

"We do to. You know that. But how we go about it is an entirely different story. We're simply not ready yet." Elijah told her with emphasizing eyes. Another smaller silenced pushed Elijah to tilt his soup bowl back and fourth. "And who says we're qualified, or if it's even in our blood to fight-"

"We **are** qualified!" Evelyn claimed in a bolder tone. Realizing her solid grip her paw had on her eating utensil, she eased herself, leaning back in her seat once more. "Forgive me. I am really exhausted from training...and my mind hasn't left the training field. I just need to acquire more rest. Sorry for raising my voice." Evelyn then gave them a feint, parting smile and left for her own room.

The three left abandoned at the dinner table all heard Evelyn's door shut soundly behind her as the were left to process everything up to this point. Isembard sighed, getting up and clapping his hands together. "Whelp, it's nearly two til' midnight, I believe. You both can finish up and if ya want. Think up on joining me and Evelyn up on some basics tomorrow. Goodnight till' mornin'."

Isembard left for the hallway to his designated room, Martha and Elijah now left as the final two in a quickly disbanding room.

* * *

Evelyn had her face buried in the pillow underneath her, awaiting an involuntary slumber. She couldn't find the will to get the right amount of time to sleep. Almost every night, she would stay up past Martha and Elijah with miscellaneous dark and despairing thoughts uncontrollably bouncing around her mind.

_Why was this happening? WHY?_

_What started this tyranny?_

_The tyranny that took her parents and her friend's family?_

_Who was it? Who spear-headed this foul tyranny?_

_What was his name?_

_What was her name?_

_What was_ _**their** _ _name?_

These questions weren't always as overly frequent in her mind as they recently were. After everything had first transpired, she just wanted to get way. Get was far away as she possibly could. She never wanted to be within eyesight of another dead one under those circumstances ever again, undead skellieton, or not. She had just wanted to _forget_. But this way of thinking began to morph as the years passed and Evelyn had begun to hope that she run into another skellie that was wondering about. Even a spell-caster. She didn't care. She was tired of running.

Evelyn's heart jumped a little, her obsessive thoughts pried from her mind as the door to her room began to slowly creak open. She didn't move herself to see who it was. She just wanted to be left alone until the morning sun arose.

"I killed him. The man that killed my father. The slightly gruff voice that originated from the doorway surprised Evelyn. She hadn't expected _him_ to come. But what really made her turn were his words. "Was right after the war. They lost...the oppressors. But the man made it out alive, with only a nasty scar on his face as proof of that. So I got word of him some years later and tracked him down."

Evelyn pulled the sheets off her frame and sat upright on the edge of the bed, watching Isembard walk up to join her there.

"How did it happen?" she asked. Her eyes were filled with an shameful curiosity.

An ominous chuckle escaped his mouth, his head now craned upwards towards the ceiling.

"You see, I caught him hanging 'round at a bar, far, far away from here. I introduced myself to him. Said my greetings, had a couple swigs. Didn't tell 'em who I actually was. We talked about current politics, the coming hunting season...then I invited him to my home...and I cut him down in the field. Same place where we train every day."

Evelyn was pretty much speechless. She tried to find more than two words to reply with, but the default two only came to fruition.

"I'm sorry."

This earned her another chuckle, more on the light-hearted side this time around.

"No need to be sorry. You haven't done anything... _yet_." Isembard ended in a dry, low tone. It sent chills down Evelyn's fur. Evelyn turned to look Isembard directly in the eyes with her own. Eyes that held 40+ years of experience gently gazed back.

"After I killed...no, _murdered_ him, I felt- I felt more lost than before. I stood in front of the grave I dug for him before hand and I stood there for the longest time. I realized many things too late." Isembard's hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly. "The bastard had a family, too. The man had friends and a wife...and a father." Isembard shifted forward, leaning his head forward, leaning his head down to the wooded floor. "He was fighting for what he thought was right. For his country. They both were, he and my dad. It was then I finally came to terms on how pointless killing him really was. It changed me for the better. And now I'm spending my time tryin' to make up for what I did...even if it's never enough."

Isembard looked back over to find Evelyn's head weighing heavily down, staring at the same wooded floors he was once fixated upon.

"This "Blood Thief...he deserves to die. To suffer for what he's doin'."

Evelyn's eyes shot open. _Blood Thief?_

"But please...I urge you to find and keep as much solace in yourself as you can while going down the type of road you're trying to go down. As a man of experience of going down a similar path, I'm gonna tell you this: don't lose yourself. Please. That's truly when your opponent wins. And it happens faster than ya might think. Goodnight, missy. And sleep soundly."

Isembard slowly rose from the bed and walked out of the room, looking back only for a brief moment before closing the door. Evelyn was alone once again, turning her head towards the wall behind her as she laid back upon the bed. She was left to ponder on what the older cat had revealed and spent some more time awake.

Was she spiraling out of her own peace of mind and she was just unaware of it? Was what Isembard told her really relevant to her? And this _Blood Thief_...why hadn't he told her and her friends about this person long before? Why now of all times!?

A small moment of clarity washed over her as a sudden understanding came unexpected.

"Give something a name...and you give it _power_." Evelyn whispered to herself as she motioned to look up at the ceiling.

"So why tell me now? Does he think I'm ready in some way?"

She spent nearly another hour thinking about it all before she wearily fell into a deep slumber.


End file.
